Chivalry

by James Branch Cabell

  "With reason Augustine crieth out against the lust of the eyes. 'Forpleasure seeketh objects beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savory, andsoft; but this disease those contrary as well, not for the sake ofsuffering annoyance, but out of the lust of making trial of them!' Ah!ah! too curiously I planned my own damnation, too presumptuously I hadesteemed my soul a worthy scapegoat, and I had gilded my enormity withmany lies. Yet indeed, indeed, I had believed brave things, I hadplanned a not ignoble bargain--! Ey, say, is it not laughable,madame?--as my birthright Heaven accords me a penny, and with that onlypenny I must anon be seeking to bribe Heaven."

  Presently he said: "Yet are we indeed God's satraps, as but now I criedin my vainglory, and we hold within our palms the destiny of manypeoples. Depardieux! He is wiser than we are, it may be! And asalways Satan offers no unhandsome bribes--bribes that are tangible andsure."

  They stood like effigies, lit by the broad, unsparing splendor of themorning, but again their kindling eyes had met, and again the manshuddered visibly, convulsed by a monstrous and repulsive joy."Decide! oh, decide very quickly, my only friend!" he wailed, "forthroughout I am all filth!"

  Closer she drew to him and without hesitancy laid one hand on eithershoulder. "O my only friend!" she breathed, with red lax lips whichwere very near to his, "throughout so many years I have ranked yourfriendship as the chief of all my honors! and I pray God with an entireheart that I may die so soon as I have done what I must do to-day!"

  Almost did Edward Maudelain smile, but now his stiffening mouth couldnot complete the brave attempt. "God save King Richard!" said thepriest. "For by the cowardice and greed and ignorance of little menwere Salomon himself confounded, and by them is Hercules lightlyunhorsed. Were I Leviathan, whose bones were long ago picked clean bypismires, I could perform nothing. Therefore do you pronounce my doom."

  "O King," then said Dame Anne, "I bid you go forever from the court andlive forever a landless man, and friendless, and without even name. Ibid you dare to cast aside all happiness and wealth and comfort andeach common tie that even a pickpocket may boast, like tawdry andunworthy garments. In fine, I bid you dare be King and absolute, yetnot of England--but of your own being, alike in motion and in thoughtand even in wish. This doom I dare adjudge and to pronounce, since weare royal and God's satraps, you and I."

  Twice or thrice his dry lips moved before he spoke. He was aware ofinnumerable birds that carolled with a piercing and intolerablesweetness. "O Queen!" he hoarsely said, "O fellow satrap! Heaven hasmany fiefs. A fair province is wasted and accords no revenue. Thereinwaste beauty and a shrewd wit and an illimitable charity which of theirpride go in fetters and achieve no increase. To-day the young Kingjunkets with his flatterers, and but rarely thinks of England. Youhave that beauty in desire of which many and many a man would blithelyenter hell, and the mere sight of which may well cause a man's voice totremble as my voice trembles now, and in desire of which-- But I treadafield! Of that beauty you have made no profit. O daughter of theCaesars, I bid you now gird either loin for an unlovely traffic. OldLegion must be fought with fire. True that the age is sick, that wemay not cure, we can but salve the hurt--" Now had his hand torn openhis sombre gown, and the man's bared breast shone in the sunlight, andeverywhere heaved on it sleek and glittering beads of sweat. Twice hecried the Queen's name aloud, without prefix. In a while he said: "Ibid you weave incessantly such snares of brain and body as may lureKing Richard to be swayed by you, until against his will you dailyguide this shallow-hearted fool to some commendable action. I bid youlive as other folk do hereabouts. Coax! beg! cheat! wheedle! lie!" hebarked like a teased dog, "till you achieve in part the task which isdenied me. This doom I dare adjudge and to pronounce, since we areroyal and God's satraps, you and I."

  She answered with a tiny, wordless sound. He prayed for even horror ashe appraised his handiwork. But presently, "I take my doom," the Queenproudly said. "I shall be lonely now, my only friend, and yet--it doesnot matter," the Queen said, with a little shiver. "No, nothing willever greatly matter now, I think."

  Her eyes had filled with tears; she was unhappy, and as always thisknowledge roused in Maudelain a sort of frenzied pity and a hatred,quite illogical, of all other things existent. She was unhappy, thatonly he realized; and half way he had strained a soft and groping handtoward his lips when he relinquished it. "Nay, not even that," saidEdward Maudelain, very proudly, too, and now at last he smiled; "sincewe are God's satraps, you and I."

  Afterward he stood thus for an appreciable silence, with ravenous eyes,motionless save that behind his back his fingers were bruising oneanother. Everywhere was this or that bright color and an incessantmelody. It was unbearable. Then it was over; the ordered progress ofall happenings was apparent, simple, and natural; and contentment cameinto his heart like a flight of linnets over level fields at dawn. Heleft her, and as he went he sang.

  Sang Maudelain:

  "_Christ save us all, as well He can, A solis ortus cardine! For He is both God and man, Qui natus est de virgine, And we but part of His wide plan That sing, and heartily sing we, 'Gloria Tibi, Domine!'_

  "_Between a heifer and an ass Enixa est puerpera; In ragged woollen clad He was Qui regnat super aethera, And patiently may we then pass That sing, and heartily sing we, 'Gloria Tibi, Domine!_"

  The Queen shivered in the glad sunlight. "I am, it must be, pitiablyweak," she said at last, "because I cannot sing as he does. And, sinceI am not very wise, were he to return even now-- But he will notreturn. He will never return," the Queen repeated, carefully, and overand over again. "It is strange I cannot comprehend that he will neverreturn! Ah, Mother of God!" she cried, with a steadier voice, "grantthat I may weep! nay, of thy infinite mercy let me presently find theheart to weep!" And about the Queen of England many birds sangjoyously.

  Next day the English barons held a council, and in the midst of it KingRichard demanded to be told his age.

  "Your Grace is in your twenty-second year," said the uneasy Gloucester,and now with reason troubled, since he had been seeking all night longfor the evanished Maudelain.

  "Then I have been under tutors and governors longer than any other wardin my dominion. My lords, I thank you for your past services, but Ineed them no more." They had no check handy, and Gloucester inparticular foreread his death-warrant, but of necessity he shouted withthe others, "Hail, King of England!"

  That afternoon the King's assumption of all royal responsibility wascommemorated by a tournament, over which Dame Anne presided. Sixty ofher ladies led as many knights by silver chains into thetilting-grounds at Smithfield, and it was remarked that the Queenappeared unusually mirthful. The King was in high good humor, alreadya pattern of conjugal devotion; and the royal pair retired at dusk tothe Bishop of London's palace at Saint Paul's, where was held a merrybanquet, with dancing both before and after supper.

  THE END OF THE SIXTH NOVEL

  VII

  The Story of the Heritage

  "_Pour vous je suis en prison mise, En ceste chambre a voulte grise, Et traineray ma triste vie Sans que jamais mon cueur varie, Car toujours seray vostre amye._"

  THE SEVENTH NOVEL.--ISABEL OF VALOIS, BEING FORSAKEN BY ALL OTHERS, IS BEFRIENDED BY A PRIEST, WHO, IN CHIEF THROUGH A CHILD'S INNOCENCE, CONTRIVES AND EXECUTES A LAUDABLE IMPOSTURE, AND WINS TO DEATH THEREBY.

  The Story of the Heritage

  In the year of grace 1399 (Nicolas begins) dwelt in a hut near CaerDathyl in Arvon, as he had done for some five years, a gaunt hermit,notoriously consecrate, whom neighboring Welshmen revered as theBlessed Evrawc. There had been a time when people called him EdwardMaudelain, but this period he dared not often remember.

  For though in macerations of the flesh, in fasting, and in hour-longprayers he spent his days, this holy man was much troubled by devils.He got little rest because of them. Sometimes would come into his hutBelphegor in the likeness of a butler, and whisper, "Sir
e, had you beenKing, as was your right, you had drunk to-day not water but the winesof Spain and Hungary." Or Asmodeus saying, "Sire, had you been King,as was your right, you had lain now on cushions of silk."

  One day in early spring came a more cunning devil, named Bembo, in thelikeness of a fair woman with yellow hair and large blue eyes. Shewore a massive crown which seemed too heavy for her frailness tosustain. Soft tranquil eyes had lifted from her book. "You are mycousin now, messire," this phantom had appeared to say.

  "IN THE LIKENESS OF A FAIR WOMAN" _Painting by HowardPyle_]

  That was the worst, and Maudelain began to fear he was a little madbecause even this he had resisted with many aves.

  There came also to his hut, through a sullen snowstorm, upon theafternoon of All Soul's day, a horseman in a long cloak of black. Hetethered his black horse without and strode softly through the door,and upon his breast and shoulders the snow was white as the bleachedbones of those women that died in Merlin's youth.

  "Greetings in God's name, Messire Edward Maudelain," the stranger said.

  Since the new-comer spoke intrepidly of holy things a cheerierMaudelain knew that this at least was no demon. "Greetings!" heanswered. "But I am Evrawc. You name a man long dead."

  "But it is from a certain Bohemian woman I come. What matter, then, ifthe dead receive me?" And thus speaking, the stranger dropped hiscloak.

  In flame-colored satin he was clad, which shimmered with each movementlike a high flame, and his countenance had throughout the color and theglow of amber. His eyes were dark and very tender, and the tearssomehow had come to Maudelain's eyes because of a sudden and great lovefor this tall stranger. "Eh, from the dead to the dead I travel, asever, with a message and a token. My message runs, _Time is, O fellowsatrap!_ and my token is this."

  And in this packet, wrapped with white parchment and tied with a goldencord, was only a lock of hair. It lay like a little yellow serpent inMaudelain's palm. "And yet five years ago," he mused, "this hair wasturned to dust. God keep us all!" Then he saw the tall lean emissarypuffed out like a candle-flame; and upon the floor he saw the huddledcloak waver and spread like ink, and the white parchment slowlydwindle, as snow melts under the open sun. But in his hand remainedthe lock of yellow hair.

  "O my only friend," said Maudelain, "I may not comprehend, but I knowthat by no unhallowed art have you won back to me." Hair by hair hescattered what he held upon the floor. "_Time is!_ and I have not needof any token wherewith to spur my memory." He prized up a corner ofthe hearthstone, took out a small leather bag, and that day purchased ahorse and a sword.

  At dawn the Blessed Evrawc rode eastward in this novel guise. It wastwo weeks later when he came to Sunninghill; and it happened that thesame morning the Earl of Salisbury, who had excellent reason toconsider...

  _Follows a lacuna of fourteen pages. Maudelain's successful impostureof Richard the Second, so strangely favored by their physicalresemblance, and the subsequent fiasco at Circencester, are now,however, tolerably notorious. It would seem evident, from the Argumentof the story in hand, that Nicolas attributes a large part of thismysterious business to the co-operancy of Isabel of Valois, KingRichard's infant wife. And (should one have a taste for the deductive)the foregoing mention of Bembo, when compared with_ "THE STORY OF THESCABBARD," _would certainly hint that Owain Glyndwyr had a finger inthe affair_.

  _It is impossible to divine by what method, according to Nicolas, thisEdward Maudelain was eventually substituted for his younger brother.Nicolas, if you are to believe his_ "EPILOGUE," _had the best ofreasons for knowing that the prisoner locked up in Pontefract Castle inthe February of_ 1400 _was not Richard Plantagenet: and this contentionis strikingly attested, also, by the remaining fragment of this same_"STORY OF THE HERITAGE."

  ... and eight men-at-arms followed him.

  Quickly Maudelain rose from the table, pushing his tall chair aside,and in the act one fellow closed the door securely. "Nay, eat yourfill, Sire Richard," said Piers Exton, "since you will not ever eatagain."

  "Is it so?" the trapped man answered quietly. "Then indeed you come ina good hour." Once only he smote upon his breast. "_Mea culpa!_ OEternal Father, do Thou shrive me very quickly of all those sins I havecommitted, both in thought and deed, for now the time is very short."

  And Exton spat upon the dusty floor. "Foh, they had told me I wouldfind a king here. I discover only a cat that whines."

  "Then 'ware his claws!" As a viper leaps Maudelain sprang upon thenearest fellow and wrested away his halberd. "Then 'ware his claws, mymen! For I come of an accursed race. And now let some of you lamentthat fearful hour wherein Foulques the Querulous held traffic with ademon and on her begot the first of us Plantagenets! For of ice and oflust and of hell-fire are all we sprung; old records attest it; andfickle and cold and ravenous and without fear are all we Plantagenetsuntil the end. Ay, until the end! O God of Gods!" this Maudelaincried, with a great voice, "wilt Thou dare bid a man die patiently,having aforetime filled his veins with such a venom! Nay, I lack thegrace to die as all Thy saints, without one carnal blow struck in myown defence. I lack the grace, my Father, for even at the last thedevil's blood You gave me is not quelled. I dare atone for that oldsin done by my father in the flesh, but yet I must atone as aPlantagenet!"

  Then it was he and not they who pressed to the attack. Their meetingwas a bloody business, for in that dark and crowded room Maudelainraged among his nine antagonists as an angered lion among wolves.

  They struck at random and cursed shrilly, for they were now half-afraidof this prey they had entrapped; so that presently he was all hackedand bleeding, though as yet he had no mortal wound. Four of these menhe had killed by this, and Piers Exton also lay at his feet.

  Then the other four drew back a little. "Are ye tired so soon?" saidMaudelain, and he laughed terribly. "What, even you! Why, look ye, mybold veterans, I never killed before to-day, and I am not breathed asyet."

  Thus he boasted, exultant in his strength. But the other men saw thatbehind him Piers Exton had crawled into the chair from which (theythought) King Richard had just risen, and stood erect upon the cushionsof it. They saw this Exton strike the King with his pole-axe, frombehind, and once only, and they knew no more was needed.

  "By God!" said one of them in the ensuing stillness, and it was he whobled the most, "that was a felon's blow."

  But the dying man who lay before them made as though to smile. "Icharge you all to witness," he faintly said, "how willingly I render toCaesar's daughter that which was ever hers."

  Then Exton fretted, as with a little trace of shame: "Who would havethought the rascal had remembered that first wife of his so long?Caesar's daughter, saith he! and dares _in extremis_ to pervert HolyScripture like any Wycliffite! Well, he is as dead as that firstCaesar now, and our gracious King, I think, will sleep the better forit. And yet--God only knows! for they are an odd race, even as hesaid--these Plantagenets."

  THE END OF THE SEVENTH NOVEL

  VIII

  The Story of the Scabbard

  "_Ainsi il avoit trouve sa mie Si belle qu'on put souhaiter. N'avoit cure d'ailleurs plaider, Fors qu'avec lui manoir et estre. Bien est Amour puissant et maistre._"

  THE EIGHTH NOVEL.--BRANWEN OF WALES GETS A KING'S LOVE UNWITTINGLY, AND IN ALL INNOCENCE CONVINCES HIM OF THE LITTLENESS OF HIS KINGDOM; SO THAT HE BESIEGES AND IN DUE COURSE TRIUMPHANTLY OCCUPIES ANOTHER REALM AS YET UNMAPPED.

  The Story of the Scabbard

  In the year of grace 1400 (Nicolas begins) King Richard, the secondmonarch of that name to rule in England, wrenched his own existence,and nothing more, from the close wiles of Bolingbroke. Thecircumstances have been recorded otherwhere. All persons, saving onlyOwain Glyndwyr and Henry of Lancaster, believed King Richard dead atthat period when Richard attended his own funeral, as a proceedingtaking to the fancy, and, among many others, saw the body of EdwardMaudelain interred with every regal ceremony in the chapel at Lan
gleyBower. Then alone Sire Richard crossed the seas, and at thirty-threeset out to inspect a transformed and gratefully untrammelling worldwherein not a foot of land belonged to him.

  Holland was the surname he assumed, the name of his half-brothers; andto detail his Asian wanderings were both tedious and unprofitable. Butat the end of each four months would come to him a certain messengerfrom Glyndwyr, whom Richard supposed to be the devil Bembo, whonotoriously ran every day around the world upon the Welshman'sbusiness. It was in the Isle of Taprobane, where the pismires are asgreat as hounds, and mine and store the gold the inhabitants afterwardrob them of through a very cunning device, that this emissary broughtthe letter which read simply, "Now is England fit pasture for the WhiteHart." Presently was Richard Holland in Wales, and then he rode toSycharth.

  There, after salutation, Glyndwyr gave an account of his longstewardship. It was a puzzling record of obscure and tirelessmachinations with which we have no immediate concern: in brief, thevery barons who had ousted King Log had been the first to find KingStork intolerable; and Northumberland, Worcester, Douglas, Mortimer,and so on, were already pledged and in open revolt. "By the God I donot altogether serve," Owain ended, "you have but to declare yourself,sire, and within the moment England is yours."

  More lately Richard spoke with narrowed eyes. "You forget that whileHenry of Lancaster lives no other man will ever reign out a tranquilweek in these islands. Come then! the hour strikes; and we will coaxthe devil for once in a way to serve God."